WITH NO REGRETS 1980.

It'd be that day,

no other, to wait
a mistake, she'd
not change, Johnny
knew that, known
her for years now,
temper like a stepped
on rattlesnake, her eyes
fixing like dagger darts.
He smokes; lets the
smoke settle in his
throat, his lungs, stares
at the bed, unmade,
used, the pillows
soiled by head and hair,
the smell of her still there.
To leave, to depart,
unstitch the years, months,
days, unstitch the mind
and heart. He'd not tell her,
just go, have no scene,
or bellows or threatened
suicide, best to go, leave
her there, pretend you'll
be back, see her soon,
like night comes, like new
or old moon. Johnny knows
her all too well; a fresh
horizon comes into view,
new pastures to walk or
seek, the old ,the past,
the tried and tested, set
aside, he exhales the smoke,
watches dust settle, her
voice downstairs raised,

the radio pop tunes piping

new and old rising up
the stairs, he rises, stubs
out the cigarette, time to go,
to set off, with no regret.